South Park Romance
by Seth24
Summary: Just basic romance stories and I DO NOT OWN ALL OF THESE NOVELS. if you see yours you should be proud
1. Kyman Fearless

_Comment away_

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><p><strong>I <strong>**did not write all of these stories though**** soon I will be making some.**

Kyman- Fearless

Cartman's POV

**March 2nd, my thirteenth spring**

"Do you think there's something beyond that sign?"

The sign in question is that famous sign. A sign stuck obnoxiously in the unforgiving snow, wood which has splintered, lettering that is fading. Still, after every holy disaster that passed over our town and clutched it fiercely to it's bosom, before dropping us off to... anywhere, nowhere. Never black and white, or technicolour, never three magic taps to send us home. What was home? I'm afraid I'll never know. Just like him, I'm curious, but I pretend I know everything. After all the chaos, that sign has lasted longer than any citizen.

I'm just one of those people who is likely to martyr myself to small town tradition, in a dead end marriage, in a dead end job. Dead end. The end of life is death, all you'll be remembered for. Not him, he held something, something different. Why I hated him, and now, why I find myself drawn to him.

"Well of course there is, dumbass, you've been outside of South Park before." The sign is a few feet away from us. We refuse to take our eyes off it.

"Yeah, but I mean, a life beyond it. Do you ever think anybody leaves here, goes to a city or another town and just forgets it?. The memory just evaporates with time?."

"Maybe, I have never known anybody who's left..."

"And why is that?"

"Because it's hard to escape towns like this. Where your decisions are everyone's decisions and everyone is eager to impress, and when you're thinking for a hundred other people, you kind of lose the ability to be fearless. And that means not leaving everybody behind."

A slender hand reaches out to mine, suffocating in it's friendly heat before my pulse, embarassingly, starts to quicken. The adrenaline he gives me is frightening. But I wouldn't have it any other way. The afternoon sun of our truanting Wednesday gets caught in his Emerald green nets. Once deprived of aqua skies and tidal clouds, the sun can't survive long. Especially in his vice grip.

"Yeah, you're probably right"

**July 9th, my thirteenth summer**

If you gave the snow a chance to thaw, you'd discover something that busy minds overlooked. The simple beauty of a mountain town in an evergreen embrace. How tall the grass will grow and how insects who you thought had been frozen forever were more alive than ever and basking in the summer breeze. And Kyle and I wished to be as weightless as those amber and saffron butterflies, that soared high above the visible skyline and divulged in the grape threshold of earth and heaven, while we were limited to the lurid orange that God had teasingly granted.

We walked to nowhere, to find an escape route possibly, to wind up in a whole new place, town, state, world. Anywhere where the air, tasted, smelt, felt different. And as we walk, Kyle doesn't speak, except for the occasional musing over the beauty of virgin land, and general teenage problems that seemed to be lost in my half empty, philiosophical tumbler. The grass got longer and soon we were wading in humidity, days were scorching, but the nights were unbearably mild and the crickets choked under the sun's strict thumb. We ran our fingers through the reeds, ignoring the cry of a gunshot, the scream of frenzied birds and the soothing, delicate rustle of undergrowth.

We came to a clearing. Moss that borderd on acidic in it's colour draped over boulders and a brook swam noiseless with chatting illusions of people who felt much more free than we ever could. Though right now, in this precise moment, with Kyle by my side, I didn't feel trapped at all.

"Look" Kyle whispered, pointing to a tree, he grabbed my hand absent mindedly as he guided me to the thing he was so fascinated by, for reasons I had yet to discover.

Engraved in the tree was a silver love heart, and a pink satin ribbon tied around the tree's quite slender trunk. A woman's name engraved, and something underneath that made my stomach turn "R.I.P"

A chill crawled up my spine and stiffened it completely.

"There's a body right underneath us?!" I panicked.

"Yeah, does that freak you out?" Kyle smirked.

"A little yes" My eyes

widening, and before I could stop myself, the grip I had on Kyle's hand grew tighter. As always, Kyle laughed at my quirky and irrational freak outs. And I in turn, no longer felt the need to rip on him when he did laugh.

"I want to be buried here" Kyle smiles. "Make sure I'm buried here, okay?"

I nod. As always, absent mindedly, common sense or trepidation, was all lost when I was with Kyle. We didn't need it, we didn't need to ponder our words, or twist our personalities slightly, because we had delved further than most people had dared into each others hearts. Just two thirteen year old boys who had a friendship that couldn't be explained. Purely platonic but breathtaking in our elusive behaviour.

Though that did leave me asking a lot of questions. Why would I be responsible in where he got buried? I wasn't that big a part of his life, was I? Then I asked myself, but could I be?

**April 24th, My fifteenth spring**

"So Cartman, I heard you hooked up with Heidi at Craig's party?"

There's a brotherly tap on my shoulder, followed by a few snickers of approval, a slight raise in the curious chatter of our overcrowded lunch table and finally a split second where time stops and it's only Kyle's frozen irises, shocked expression and questions I can't answer.

I'm sorry. My eyes shift, my cowardice shameless. The thing is I don't know why I'm sorry, I think it's because Kyle and I never showed no interest in sex with anyone. Not even each other. Why that was, remained unspoken, Kyle never showed interest, or approval, so I followed suit, eager to please him. I couldn't lose a spirit so peculiar, refreshingly and perfectly unordinary from this town. So, I was in that crucial make or break moment, devastated that peer pressure and cheap liqour could influence me so easily, and make us break the silent bond, a promise in us that we secretly held dear.

And the fact that's he's hearing it come out of Clyde's arrognant mouth. Makes my deciet sizzle that much more.

**October 12th, my fifteenth autumn**

"I'm, I'm... gay."

I'm not suprised by Kyle's confession. In fact, I'm strangely delighted. Though that feeling of delight is soon smothered by anxiety. I always knew Kyle could be more, you know, that way. He often showed lingering displays of affection towards me, blushed and turned away when I had to change my clothes for some reason, or kept his gaze focused on me for so long, that I too, would be immersed in his beautiful shamrock cesspools. Making my doubts over my dwindiling heterosexuality grow. Kyle was like that. He could make you think things that you never thought, make you dream and see, feel things differently. He challenged everything and was so fearless doing it that I couldn't help but feel envious.

Like now, I didn't know what I was. Even saying I was bi, was too hard to handle. I thought about my mom, her friends, my friends and all those guys who drink down at the bar, what they would think if word got out that I swung for both teams. But Kyle, Kyle didn't care. Seeing those people for what they were, people, not a jury of expressionless faces who sentence you to a life of ignorance and doubt because your opinion differs from theirs, is what kept him happy.

"Cartman? You haven't spoken in 10 minutes" Kyle nervously laughs, edging closer to me.

"Well dude, whatever makes you happy. I'm not going to think any less of you, whoever you date. I'm always there for you, 'kay man?"

"Oh Cartman! Thank you!" Delighted, he pulls me in for a hug, his arms swing around my neck and I instantly scoop the small of his back and time become's frozen again, but in a good way. The way that makes you want to appreciate every second of life before it's sprints to bullet speed again. "Thank you for being so understanding" He murmers softly into my shoulder, before I realise that both our heartbeats are locked in a deeply pulsing embrace.

**January 26th, my sixteenth winter**

Gossip in South Park high school was like a disease, a holy disease that orginiates from nowhere and whose cure is non exsistent, but some would believe could be cured by things as ridiculous as an excorcism. And strains of the disease would infect the halls and make them uninhabitable, unless you want to wade in nasty, foul words, spoken by people who know no better. Kyle's confession that he was gay, that was supposed to be relatively private and for selected ears only was a particular nasty strain that sentenced Kyle to the shadows. I refused to abandon him however, and followed his shadow fiercely if I felt he could be in danger. The affection he once showed to me was kept for when he felt safe. When we were on our own. That made them more covetable and indeed, more thrilling, which added to my own confusion. And suddenly, everybody revealed their true colours, no one was tolerant of anyone, even in this day and age. Towns like these get lost in a forgotten decade and stubbornly stay there before they are forced to change. Kyle was no fool. He knew that wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

Now, I was picking up coffee on my way back from school, Kyle had been off sick, an excuse that wouldn't convince, but I didn't want to upset him.

"So, I heard that Broflovski boy is queer, huh?" Mr Tweak, mindlessly droned as he poured my order.

"Oh, where did you hear that?" I swallowed, trying to stop myself from seething.

"Tweek and his friends came back here last night and I overheard them talking about it"

"Right" I tremble. My knees have gone weak and I'm afraid I might slump.

"Yeah. Wait 'til the guys down at the bar know, that'll give 'em something to talk about. Poor Gerald won't be able to show his face for a while... you gotta feel bad for fathers whose kids turn out gay, I wouldn't allow it, it ain't right you know? You gotta wonder how these kids were raised, something ain't right in that house if that Kyle boy turned out the way he did..."

"Look, forget the coffee sir. And if I were you, I would think before you open your mouth and say things so ignorant"

It's then I fully understand what Kyle was so afraid of. And why being fearless in this town was such an important trait to have.

**June 5th, my sixteenth summer**

"I never knew you smoked"

Kyle's eyes explode wildly under the flame. And if I peer close enough I can see my own reflection in those tar raindrops that lie dormant in the emerald petri dish. It seems strange to think that we'd rather crowd around an artificial heat, when the night was just as warm. I often thought about the bare green grass of Starks Pond, when July finally parted the snow from the earth.

"Well, I don't have to smoke to own a lighter, do I?" Kyle laughs, his tongue subtly tracing his bottom lip. His eyes trained on mine.

"I guess not..."

"Can I tell you something Cartman?"

It's then I realise what's happening. It's dark, it's just the two of us... he's going to kiss me. And if that happened, I honestly wouldn't know what to do. I couldn't protest right? I mean, my heart lept when he licked his lips for God's sake.

"You, you were the first guy I thought about... when I found out I was" He pauses "gay"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, I thought about us, how I felt around you and what would happen if we were to ever..." His voice trails off, our lips are centimetres away from each other. I want this. So badly. He's beautiful and I know that I wouldn't regret anything. Our lips brush together now and every hesitant breath is slowly melting into a kiss.

"I can't" He whimpers, so hot and sweet against my lips, that his words don't register. Only the sensation he creates.

"What?"

"I said I can't!" Kyle shouts before walking off into the starless hours. I want to follow him, just like when we were thirteen, but just like him, I can't.

**September 3rd, my sixteenth autumn**

Autumn is a confusing time when the weather was usually so consistent. Snow in October, November, January, Febuary, March, April, May and June. Sun in July and August. September brought rain. Heavy rain that sizzled with August's lingering heat and soon would freeze once our infamous Rocky mountain tempratures reared their heads. Still, it didn't stop Kyle and I from walking home from school, ignoring those letterman jacket clad jocks who now Kyle was gay, they didn't give a rats ass about. Though they had been friends with him for years.

Rain soaked through our jackets, running like streams down our backs and we marched to our houses, the conversation making the walk more enjoyable.

We reach my door first, and once we exchange goodbyes, Kyle lingers. A look in his eyes that makes me oblivious to rain, I could drown in it for all I care. His trembiling hand brushes through my hair, his fingertips so cold that I start to shiver and our silence is outdone by the rain's monstorous clap. My hair gets tightly caught in his fingers, and he contemplates, whilst he twirls his fingers leisurely.

His lips meet mine. I have never experienced such delicate skin against my own, such slow burning affection whose heat crawled down my throat and robbed me of breath. Never had I seen such dominance from him, guiding my lips to his own, coaxing my tongue, leading it with his before he let it explore my mouth without hesitancy. Whimpers and moans all welcomed, the occasional curse words slipping out of my mouth a couple of times, in a glorious anxiety that I would happily let crush me. His laugh, let me know he approved.

His hand moved from my hair, and slipped cautiously down by my neck, supporting my lulled head in his hand, whilst one of mine hooked around the beautiful dip of his slender back, the other trailed up his soaking shirt. He didn't protest my fingers, a gasp flew from his mouth, but no objections were raised. He backed away slightly, our lips still in contact and our eyes fluttering in concentration of the passion, he granted easier accsess to his chest. And I wasted no time, gently and cautiously feeling the structure of a boy's body, revelling in a man's touch. Just to see if I liked it. And I liked Kyle's.

My fingertips grazed the flawless milky expanse of his abs, encouraging his lips to keen too mine once again.

I broke away slightly, our breathing laboured and weary.

"Kahl, I'm not, I don't know if I am-" I start, panicking and with his arms around me, I could break down.

"I know. I know and you don't have to be anything. You don't have to have all these labels, you, you can be just be yourself. Be you."

"That sounds so fucking lame dude" I laugh. "But... I know that if I have you by my side, it doesn't matter what label they put on us."

It's hard to believe that one kiss, one person, one day can make you feel so liberated, powerful and fearless. Now, I was well on my way to being just as fearless as him.


	2. Chapter 2 Salty kisses

_Just saying each story is not related._

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><p><strong>"Salty Kisses"<strong>

They call me fatass; some vexatious nickname given to me to represent all seven of the deadly sins. Spawn of a disgusting drunken union of only the unholiest of people. I am evil itself. I could challenge the (fairy) son of the devil to a contest to see who is the most evil… and win.

I smile at other's pain and misfortune; enjoying the twisted pleasure that can only be derived from another's misery. _Finally, they're as unhappy as me…_

But there's a thin line between love and hate, they say. I've never crossed it before, but there's a first time for everything, isn't there? And I found it, in the form of a little red-haired Jew boy...

- 0 -

I wasn't always a hateful person you know, but I grew into a sordid little asshole as the abuse about my weight intensified. I hid behind my hateful façade. I mean, I had to blame _someone_ for what I was; because it was_their_ cruelty that made me seek solace in food. It was _them_ that made me eat endlessly. My "friends"…

Assholes. The whole lot of them.

Stan Marsh. That romantic sap. What a dick! He got good grades and was the fucking _quarterback_. He'd even gotten back together with his girlfriend, Wendy and they'd been inseparable ever since. It seemed like all they did was neck, regardless of where they were or who they were near.

Next was that blonde Ghetto trash, Kenny McCormick. Slut. At sixteen, he'd already managed to match my _mother_ with his whore behavior; screwing girls and guys alike. I'm surprised he hasn't contracted some sort of fatal sexual disease. As if it'd last, though. God would only send him back the very next day to gallop about and fuck once more.

_And that Jew…_ God I hated him so much. He had the fucking _perfect_ life. He was thin and taught. He was in all honors classes and got only A's. He even had a girlfriend. Some home schooled bitch, Rebecca, or something like that. She was a spaz, like that schizoid Tweek kid; except with boobs, albeit tiny ones.

It was jackasses like them that made me what I am: a fat, depressed, asshole that takes out his endless pain on everyone around him. It's all their fault.

**_I'm_**_their fault._

- 0 -

One dreary morning in October, my alarm sounded as usual and I propped myself up; smacking the snooze button before lazily rolling out of bed. I padded into the bathroom, ignoring the scale. I stopped at the mirror.

I hated that pig that stared back at me; chubby face, tousled brown hair

, squinty hazel eyes. Ugh. _Disgusting_. I tossed a towel over the mirror and went into the shower. The warm water seemed to melt away my anxiety, washing it down the drain with my sweat and tears.

I started to think while shampooing my hair. Maybe today would be different. Maybe today I'd start over and make myself a better person. Maybe today's the day!_Maybe…_

My happy thoughts always stop there as I realize, I'm useless and my feeble goals will never be realized. I don't have the drive or discipline for a diet. I can't handle the ridicule for it either. I hate myself. I can't believe I could be so useless.

And so, my thoughts progress into a downward spiral of self-loathing… and I wonder:

_Why bother?_

- 0 -

After dressing in my usual huge tee shirt and waterproof jeans, I pulled on my old red jacket. It was the only one of my childhood clothing items that still fit and to me, it was the most important. We'd been through so much together. I loved the frayed ends of the jacket sleeves and the occasional stain from some misadventure.

I'd always liked our adventures. I felt like I was part of something. Even if the guys didn't really make me feel welcome, I still enjoyed being around. Sometimes, it almost felt like we were real friends. Even with Kyle…  
>- 0 -<p>

I left my house, walking down the sidewalk to the bus stop. I left deep imprints in the snow from my weight, so I hated to look down. It was beginning to snow and the dust was furling quietly around my ankles as the wind picked up the top layer of powder. I ignored everything around me as I walked down the street.

I stepped over the legs of our local homeless man, who had fallen asleep next to a garbage can by the end of my street, an empty vodka bottle in hand. I held my nose and breathed through my teeth, trying to disregard the terrible stench of vodka and stale sex of the unwashed soul.

I let myself sink into the music I was listening to. My iPod clutched in my meaty hand, I found the words of _The Used_ quite soothing.

_I'm lying to myself__  
><em>_And this dagger's my excuse__  
><em>_I'm a pawn__  
><em>_I should have paid up__  
><em>_And I left an hour late__  
><em>_I was laid up_

I must abuse myself  
>I'm against all that I've made up<br>Set in stone the sun will come  
>And I hate light<br>You know I hate light  
>To me it looks so pretty burning<p>

I knew their words were for me and me alone, and I needed to hear them. I closed my eyes as I walked down the street.

The roads were familiar to me; I knew every groove and turn. Sight was useless. I preferred the blindness anyway, because at least then, I couldn't see myself. I could live in the illusion of a perfect existence. Even if it would never happen.

When I opened my eyes, it was to find Stan and Wendy going at it at the bus stop. I was disgusted by the display they put on. _Hadn't they ever heard of privacy!_

I watched in abhorrence as Stan ran his tongue down Wendy's neck. She whimpered slightly, and he moved his hands from her waist up to her shirt. I turned away. I didn't want to see anymore. Why couldn't pretty people just stop flaunting it?

Wendy spotted me out of the corner of her eye and pushed Stan away, adjusting her aged pink beret. She pulled her coat closed, but not before I saw her rumpled blouse, a pink bra peeking out. The buttons around the chest were opened with obvious haste. _Ew._

"Sorry Cartman," she coughed apologetically and turned away to adjust herself, trying to hide her shame.

Stan was less penitent. He glared at me with obvious distaste, clearly saying:_Couldn't you have picked a better time?_ I supposed I couldn't blame him, I guess I'd be pissed too if I'd been interrupted like that. But, I didn't really give a fuck. Why should I?

"Are you listening to that shitty emo music again, Cartman?" he asked snidely, indicating the iPod in my hand with a quick jerk of his head. I grinned. Sweet, a fight. I loved a good debate. Who didn't?

"It's better than the heavy metal shit you listen to, dickweed."

_Ah, friendship._

Stan fumed and opened his mouth to say another insult. Sensing danger, Wendy clamped her mouth overtop of his for another long, incredibly annoying, kiss. I turned away and tuned out the sounds of love for something more Gothic.

_What will it take to show you that it's not the life it seems?__  
><em>_(I'm not okay)__  
><em>_I told you time and time again you sing the words but don't know what it means__  
><em>_(I'm not okay)__  
><em>_To be a joke and look, another line without a hook__  
><em>_I held you close as we both shook for the last time take a good hard look!_

I'm not okay  
>I'm not okay<br>I'm not okay  
>You wear me out<p>

Forget about the dirty looks  
>The photographs your boyfriend took<br>You said you read me like a book, but the pages all are torn and frayed

Amidst the despondent lyrical prowess of Gerard Way, I didn't even notice the arrival of the Ghetto skank and the Jew.

"Could you two lighten up a bit?" I opened my eyes at Kyle's voice. He was standing with his little brother, Ike; his hand clamped solidly over the ten year old's eyes. Ike struggled vainly to still watch the show.

Ike may have been only ten, but he went to high school for his math and science classes anyway. He was some sort of Canadian prodigy, it probably didn't hurt that he was Jewish either. He'd grown into his head more since he was a baby. He was cute little kid, with bright brown eyesand birch hair. Well, he was cute; until he opened his mouth that is, because as soon as that happened, a string of ruthless, unforgiving, grammatically correct insults would spew out. He may have been only ten, but he could still make you feel like his inferior.

"Oh, right." Stan and Wendy let go of one another, straightening their clothing; grinning sheepishly at Kyle. He rolled his eyes and smiled back at them, a great smile. Kyle released Ike, who looked immediately depressed as he noticed the lack of soft porn for his enjoyment.

I watched them all exchange their good mornings and hellos; gazing on as they drifted smoothly into light conversation. I noticed that no one greeted me, although I wasn't horribly surprised. I just barely listened as they chatted, tuning in and out as I saw fit. Not even bothering to insert my usual snide comments. I didn't feel mean today. I never really did, I was only an asshole because that's what was expected of me.

I contented myself for the next ten minutes or so by pushing around chunks of dirty slush with my foot. I watched as the slush turned the white snow brown and dirty. The slow seeping of filth as it bled into the once pure snow repulsed me.

I was that slush, turning all around me as hateful as myself with just one touch. My hate was contagious.

The slush at my feet sprayed up over my pants as the bus pulled to a stop in front of us. "Fuck," I mumbled angrily, shaking the dirt from my pant legs as I followed the others onto the bus. I had to turn sideways to fit through the tiny little door. I saw Clyde snickering.

I moved to the back of the bus and took up residence in my usual seat, the one I had all to myself because no one could fit in it with me, nor did anyone want to. After all, no one likes Hitler reincarnate.

I gazed absentmindedly out the window, watching the snow whip in the wind as it fell to the ground. It piled upon itself. Just like my hate, growing, gaining strength. Forever cold… Just like South Park. Gerard Way had a point:

_I'm Not Okay…_


	3. Chapter 3 Kyman Future shock

_I apologize to the author who made this story but, this IS THE BEST STORY EVER most emotional actually after i read this i felt goth pain ( or maybe i'm just a wuss.) and i also apologize to the people that will feel this pain so hope you enjoy **WARING: If you are really sensitive to stories i advise you to not read this. READ AT OWN RISK. (Then again i may be a wuss.) ^_^**_

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><p>KyMan: Futureshock<p>

**"Future Shock"**

Eric Cartman tossed himself back into his chrome bed, staring at the bland ceiling. He hadn't been alone in the future for a while. He'd been working diligently to get his Wii by tricking the otters, the Unified Atheist League, and the United Atheist Alliance. All he wanted was to play that game system…

He wondered how long he would be stuck in the future, if it would be for a short while or the rest of his life. He hadn't bothered thinking that far ahead. Actually, he had no idea how to get out of the situation at hand or go back in time. When he was unfrozen, Svec mentioned that everyone he had ever known was dead. For a second, he contemplated how much his freezing himself had affected their lives.

Eric Cartman was well aware of the fact that he was an asshole. He always was and probably always would be. His behavior had set off so many conflicts amongst his friends. He felt responsible for almost everything that had transpired during their rocky childhood.

_I'm sure everyone's lives were better without me. Especially Kyle's…_

As soon as his thoughts fell onto the freckle-faced redhead, they paused. Suddenly, he found himself speculating how Kyle's life must have ended up. He was always so smart. Eric assumed that he probably grew up, became valedictorian, got married to his High School girlfriend, went to college to become a successful Jew lawyer and lived out his days in the suburbs in a house with the white picket fence, the dog, and the two point five kids. _Kyle always did like dogs._ Eric thought.

He wished he could find out what had happened to all of them. It occurred to him abruptly that he could ask K-10, the mechanical canine had to have records or something that could give him the answers he wanted. Eric sat up, his shiny clothes squeaking with is movement. "K-10! YOU STUPID ROBOT DOG! Come in here!" he called out.

The metallic dog sidled into the room clumsily, "Bark. Bark. What is it, Eric? Bark. Bark." He asked, his metal body clanking with his motions. Eric sat up, blowing a wisp of birch hair from his eyes. He glared at the annoying metal animal.

"Will you access anything you have on Leanne Cartman?" he demanded. The robot nodded curtly and Eric heard the whirring and clacking of the gears. The room filled with a low series of beeps as the dog began scanning data, the screen on his stomach displaying a series of numbers and letters whirling far too fast for the brunette to read.

"This is your mother, Eric? Bark. Bark." K-10 questioned him.

"Yes."

"Leanne Cartman." the automated canine repeated the name in his metallic voice. "After you disappeared, she left South Park to work at the Playboy Mansion. Despite her age, she was accepted by Hugh Heffner as one his personal Playboy Bunnies within her first month of employment. She was said to give the most satisfactory oral sex in the state." he explained. Eric scrunched up his nose in disgust. "Leanne went on to perform in several pornographic films, winning awards for her roles in _The Diary of a Mad Black Penis, Hide & Prejudice,_ and _Shaving Private Ryan._ She married the adult-film director Slash Powers and passed away at the age of sixty-four of Chlamydia. Her husband remarried a twenty-four year old startlet two weeks after the funeral." K-10 informed him. Eric rolled his eyes, _I saw that one coming._ He thought, spitefully.

"What about Kenny McCormick?" he prodded, sitting up straighter and leaning forward to get a better view of the screen on the robot dog's stomach. He drew his legs up into his body and propped his chin on his knees. His hazel eyes widened when a picture of a handsome blonde man in late twenties filled the screen. He wouldn't have recognized the man as Kenny without the sparkling blue eyes, glinting mischievously.

"Kenneth McCormick." the metallic pup mused, "At the age of eleven, his mother stabbed his father to death. Child Protective Services put Kenneth into foster care, in a different house from his younger sister Karen. Due to the stress of the separation he started drinking. He became an alcoholic by the age of thirteen. By sixteen, he was doing marijuana and still drinking in excess. At eighteen, he was performing sex acts for money to obtain cocaine and heroin." K-10 said. Eric's eyes widened and he clutched his knees tightly. He had no idea that he felt so deeply for Kenny, but hearing about the downward spiral he had put himself into made Eric's heart ache.

"A woman found him passed out on her front porch on January 12, 2016 and took him to a clinic." K-10 continued, ignoring the shaking boy before him. "In the rehabilitation center, his counselor and future wife, helped him get clean and stay sober for the rest of his years. At the age of twenty-two he completed school and began social work at the same clinic that had saved him and eventually reunited with his sister. Sadly, at the age of forty-two both he and his wife were killed in a shoot-out in the lobby of the treatment center. Their three children went to live with his sister, Karen."

"Who was his wife?" Eric questioned, readjusting himself. He fiddled with the shiny fabric of his futuristic clothes, frowning as it chaffed his skin.

K-10 checked his files, "Shelly Marsh." he said. Eric coughed in surprise. He had always thought of Shelly as a heartless she-beast who fed on the souls of small children. He would have never thought her capable of loving anyone, let alone becoming a social worker! He smiled to himself, at least Kenny was happy. He loved his work. He loved his wife. It was quite obvious that Kenny McCormick's life was much better without Eric Cartman and his sordid ways. _Maybe it was a good thing he was stuck here._ He sighed.

"Tell me about Stan Marsh?"

"Bark. Bark. _Accessing_. Bark. Bark." the robotic voice clanged as he answered him. A photo of two raven-haired teenagers aging about eighteen popped up on the screen. Eric recognized Stan Marsh immediately although the boy in the picture was considerably taller than his boyhood pal, with broader shoulders and mature features. He had the slight build of a football player, which Eric assumed he was. He was dressed in a thick sweatshirt with the South Park Cows logo on it and his signature blue and red puff-ball hat.

Stan had his arm wrapped around a pretty dark haired woman. Her obsidian hair was long and sleek, reaching just past her slender shoulders. She was dressed in a loose, violet bohemian style top and slightly worn-out pink beret. The two youths were grinning at each other, so obviously in love. The genuineness of their smiles shone through the pixels and Eric knew that they were pure, not the fake smiles one usually wears when getting their photo taken.

"Stanly Marsh. Bark. Bark." K-10 said, his voice almost overpowered by the whirling gears in his gut. "He married his High School girlfriend, Wendy Testaburger when they were both twenty-two." he informed him. _So that's Wendy?_ Eric couldn't help but smile to himself. He didn't have anyone but a simple-minded robot dog looking at him now. Nobody to judge him. Nobody to perform for. He didn't have to be mean. He could just love his friends. "They both graduated from Harvard University, him with a degree in veterinary sciences and her with one in law. They started an activist group for animal lovers in their early thirties and went around the country protesting the use of animals as test subjects for cosmetics and sales of fur. Bark. Bark."

In spite of himself, Eric laughed out loud. He was glad that the automated canine lacked the ability to judge, due to his primary programming. He could be as normal as he wanted to be. He grinned, "Hippie dickweeds…" Eric muttered.

The mechanical pup continued, "They also managed to shut down PETA after proving that the organization's members had improper sexual relationships with animals. They moved back to South Park in their mid-thirties and Stanley became the local veterinarian while Wendy Testaburger-Marsh started a law firm. They had one child of their own, a boy named Eric Kyle Testaburger-Marsh." Eric's eyes widened. _They named their son after me? Maybe someone did miss me?_

He shook the thought from his head. He knew no one else would care if he was gone, especially _one_ person. "What happened to… Kyle Broflovski?" he struggled with the name, barely managing to whisper his inquiry. He had a fleeting worry that all the times he wished AIDS onto him might actually have come true. His stomach twisted.

K-10 woofed pleasantly as he retrieved the data, "Kyle James Broflovski. There is no information on this individual, except that he committed suicide by shooting himself in the head at the age of sixteen." Eric's breath caught in this throat.

"W—What!?" Eric choked in disbelief. He felt an unfamiliar emotion washing over him, like his heart was being wrung out like a sponge. He thought he might puke. Kyle had killed himself? Why would he do that? What could have happened to make him take his own life?

"Bark. Bark. He left a letter. Bark. Bark. I have it on file." K-10 said, his body clanking.

Eric hopped off the bed, grabbing the metal dog by his shoulders and tugging him until he was mere centimeters from his face, growling. "Give it to me! Print out the fucking letter, you goddamned dog!" he spat.

"Yes, Eric. Bark. Bark." the dog yapped, ignoring his outburst. Eric heard the low hiss of a printer as it went through its cycle. A piece of paper slid out of the robot's mouth and the plump brunette snatched it from the opening so quickly he nearly ripped it. The letter in his hands was still warm in his shaking hands as he began to read the note.

It wasn't typed. It was scribbled in Kyle's perfect handwriting. Eric had always adored the condensed, scratchy penmanship of the curly-haired Jew. Had he ever been given the chance, he would have turned that gorgeous handwriting into a computer font and used it all the time. Secretly, of course.

His hazel eyes scanned the paper with such ferocity that the words blurred together, almost too unfocused to read. He mouthed each word as he read.

_To Whom It May Concern:_

I, Kyle Broflovski, being of sound mind and blah blah blah… Fuck It. I'm not going to do this. This isn't a will, it's a suicide note. I don't need to give away all my stuff, I don't care who takes it. Have a yard sale. Sell it to a pawn shop. I don't give a shit!

I can't take life anymore. Over the last seven years, I have slowly slid downhill into a pool of my own depression. I have tried on many occasions to remember the last time I was truly happy. Only one stretch of time comes to mind, the days I spend with my three best friends having every misadventure known to man.

When I was thirteen I realized I was gay. I don't really give a fuck if it's against the rules of God or whatever, that was never important to me. I came out to my parents and surprisingly, they were totally fine with it. So I dated…

I dated and I dated and I dated. I dated every gay boy from South Park to Denver, but I could never fill the empty space in my heart. To Clyde Donovan, Craig Tucker, Tweek Tweak, Christophe, all of you. I'm sorry I broke your hearts. Craig and Tweek? I am glad you found each other. The same goes to Gregory and Christophe. Cherish each other and please don't hold it against me. It's just, I think I found my "one and only" many years before I knew who I was.

I am referring, of course, to Eric Cartman.

All those years, I thought I hated Eric but I never really did. I think I thought that fighting was the only way I could get communicate with him, get close to him. So I fought. I took his rude comments and threw some right back. Now I understand that all I really wanted was for him to pay attention to me.

The day that Eric disappeared, I felt as though my life ended. My will to live simply dried up. I never found anyone who could infuriate me in the same way that stupid little fat-ass could and my life became an empty void. I don't know what happened to Eric. I don't think anyone does, but I want to see him and I think death is the only way.

As for my final requests: Stan. You were always my best friend and I love you. If you and Wendy ever get married and have kids, will you name one after Eric? I think he should be honored. I don't want him to think we forgot him. I never want to forget him. Also, please take care of Ike for me, don't let him do stupid shit.

Kenny. I don't know where you are now or what you're doing, but I'm sure you'll find your way back home. You always do. Don't destroy yourself, you mean a lot to me. You should live. You deserve to be happy and find someone who really loves you.

Oh, and as for my Nintendo Wii. Please put it on Eric's grave. Thank you.

There is nothing holding me to this Earth. I hope that in the next life I can be happy with all my friends again, like back when we were eight. Maybe I'll see Eric. I hope I do. I'll be watching you all.

Sincerely Yours,  
>Kyle<p>

Eric clamped his hand over his mouth and choked as he read the letter. Tears welled up in his eyes until they dripped down his face, falling onto his body and dotting the shiny fabric like tiny stars. He clutched the paper in his meaty hands, shaking violently. He was only nine years old, but he had never been sadder in his entire life.

The sobs racked throughout his body as he held Kyle's final letter to his broad chest, his last piece of security. He shook with his wails, screaming out pain he did not know he held. He wasn't forgotten, but because of it someone he cared about, even if only in secret, had taken his own life as consequence. He felt like his world was coming apart by the seams, a single strand pulled on a garment that causes it to unfurl into a pile of yarn.

_How could he do this?_

Suddenly, it occurred to him, Kyle loved him. He said so, in writing no less. Eric lay on the floor, tears still streaming silently down his face and stared up at the ceiling. He had not been forgotten. The one person he thought would try to erase his existence once he was gone had cared for him the whole time.

If he ever got back he would treat Kyle differently.

"Bark. Bark. Eric, are you okay?"

"Y—Yeah…" Eric stuttered, swallowing his tears and smiling. He wiped his face with his chunky hand, accidentally scraping his face with the scratchy galactic fabric. Eric pushed himself off the floor and walked over to the window, looking at the futuristic society outside. He turned his gaze above the city to the skyline, which looked exactly the same as it did back in his time. "Yeah," he repeated, "I think I'm gonna be okay."

Eric smiled as he spotted a cloud that looked like Kyle, watching over him. The only boy he'd ever loved.

No one is ever really forgotten. There is not one person on this Earth that isn't the world to someone. Sometimes, we don't even realize how much we meant to someone until we're gone. Sometimes, it takes us forever to see that the person we need to be with is right in front of us.

Keeping your feelings inside and shielding emotions with harshness and cruelty makes you suffer. It is hard to put your feelings on the line due to fear and the possibility of rejection. The truth is, that it is a million time harder to keep your emotions bottled up inside when you watch your perfect moment slip away.

**END**

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